


Blue (A Working Title)

by Ethan_SN



Category: Darkest Powers - Kelley Armstrong
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Bondage, Chloe is much more competant than Ana, Dark Past, Don't Worry Derek isn't a Cunt Like Christian, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Friendship, Gonna Add More Tags as I Write it So Don't Be Surprised, I just thought this concept was too similar to fifty shades to not say it's inspired by it, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey, Masturbation, Necromancy, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Social Anxiety, Sorcerers, Strangers to Lovers, Stuttering, Trauma, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves, Witches, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:23:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethan_SN/pseuds/Ethan_SN
Summary: Chloe Saunders is a film major living in Syracuse. She has PTSD and her life is awash with anxiety and fear, running from a memory too hazy to actually remember. One day, when her impulsive best friend Liz drags her to a nightclub, she has a panic attack and finds herself the target of a dangerous werewolf named Liam, who reawakens her past and forces her to either overcome or succumb to it. Luckily for her, though, she won't have to do it alone; not only does she have Liz, but she meets a mysterious stranger who can't seem to decide how he feels about Chloe, other than his strange urge to protect her.
Relationships: Carter Cain/Rachelle Rodgers, Chloe Saunders/Derek Souza, Daniel Bianchi/Maya Delaney, Elizabeth Delaney/Victoria Enright, Rachelle Rodgers/Elizabeth Delaney, Simon Bae/Annie Martinez
Comments: 17
Kudos: 15





	1. Wear Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Bully me (nicely) if I don't update this at least monthly, and remind me that I never finish anything and this will just be added to the long list of What Could Have Been if I fall too far behind. Thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Liz guilts Chloe into attending the Carson family vintage party and a whole lot of (somewhat cringey?) drama unfolds.

I stared at the screen of my laptop for what felt like hours, mind wandering leisurely between what I ought to be writing, what I wanted to be writing, and an embarrassing amount of my wonderful to-be life after I’m discovered for the author-and-director of the times I’m destined to be. Or something.

“Chloe?” Liz screamed from the next room, making me jump about a foot into the air and half-gasp-half-scream, then shudder into the back of my chair.

You’d think she’d have learned by now. I pushed my feet off the desk and towards the door, opening it to see her standing in the middle of the hallway with a sheepishly apologetic look on her too-pretty face. Her blonde hair was in rollers and she wore her Victorian slip and stockings. “I’m sorry for startling you,” she all but cooed.

I did my best to put on a believable smile despite the feeling of panic still dancing across my skin. “I don’t believe you,” I said.

“But it’s true,” she said, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. I couldn’t help but give her a small smile in return.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to remind you to wear blue tonight,” she whispered.

I sighed a loud, exasperated sigh as my body gradually sank out of panic. “I told you, Elizabeth Delaney-”

“But you have to!” Liz whined.

“I am not going to your dress up party-”

“It is  _ so not _ a dress up party, it-!”

“I’m sorry, Liz,” I said. “I really am. But I can’t handle that.”

“Well, neither can I,” she said. “Not without you. I help you all the time- I go with you to everything to help you get through it. I even went to that stupid Tarantino marathon despite the fact that I am very strongly morally against that horrible, horrible man.”

I looked down at the slippers on my feet. She was right, of course. Everytime I had to go to some sort of public event, she came along with me, just so I could get through it without a panic attack. “I know,” I whispered as the guilt flooded over me. I knew then that I would fold and just go, but I was still gonna try to fight it for a little while. “Because I panic easily. Just like I will tonight at your party.”

“But I’ll be there, with you, by your side, the whole time,” she assured me. “You know I have anxiety, too. And you know how much this means to me. Please, Chloe.”

I looked up at her as my last ditch arguments crumbled around me. Her pretty, midnight blue eyes were sad and desperate, and suddenly, I felt like The Worst Friend Ever, trademark pending. “Yeah. I know.”

“So you’ll come?” she asked hopefully.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m not gonna wear blue.”

She got a small smile. “I already made the dress.”

I looked up at her in disbelief as she nibbled on her lip. “You what?”

“I  _ love _ you, Chloe,”

~~~

Three hours later, I stood in front of Liz’s bedroom mirror, peering at the pretty gown Liz had made for me. It looked perfectly authentic, though it was made mostly out of cheap polyester. It was a shade of teal somewhere between blue and green, and it did look awfully flattering against my pale skin and light orange hair. The sheer layers looked fragile and ancient, and the fit was perfectly Edwardian, indeed. “This is stunning, Liz,” I whispered softly. “How did you even make this?”

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “I wanted to follow a pattern, but none of them looked right, so I just… Winged it. It doesn’t even look vintage,”

I gawked at her. “I look like a ghost, Liz, or a time traveller, or something. It looks perfect.”

She looked at me hopefully. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I do.” I looked over at my reflection again. “And the corset doesn’t even hurt,”

“That’s a common misconception,” Liz said. “But proper corsets never hurt. In fact, if I was to have made you a truly accurate corset-”

“Liz,” I said softly, looking over at her. “As much I love your history lessons, if we don’t hurry up, we’re gonna be late.”

“Right. I have to get dressed.”

Another hour or so later, Liz was standing behind me in her gorgeous bronze dress, something not totally unlike mine but a lot more- 1870s. Her hair and makeup were also authentic to that time period (or so I assumed; I’d only just grasped the differences between each Victorian decade) and she looked absolutely breathtaking. I was sat in front of her rickety vanity, having not set my hair the night before like Liz. She had just finished my hair and makeup, and I peered at myself beyond the antique glass of the mirror. It was a truly stunning piece, of course, with the weathered glass only adding to the effect, but how Liz managed to do her makeup in front of this everyday was far beyond me. Still, my Gibson Girl hairstyle looked gorgeous (and huge), and my subtle makeup managed to make my pasty, colorless face look warm and demure.

“God, the Edwardians would have  _ loved _ you,” Liz gushed. It was a sentiment she shared with me often.

“Yeah, Yeah. C’mon.” The dread was already building in my chest, and I just wanted tonight to be over with.

“You’re right,” she said. “We need to get there before it’s too busy.”

We scurried out of our tiny apartment and barely managed to squeeze ourselves into Liz’s boxy old Volo station wagon. “How are you doing that with that- bustle, thing, or whatever it’s called?”

“Crinolette, but close enough. Easily- it’s made to be flexible.”

“Am I wearing one of those?” I wondered as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“No, you’re actually wearing a bustle.” Liz made a left turn and I groaned.

“Wrong way,” I informed her.

“Buffalo is west,” she said.

“And we were facing south,” I said. “Besides, we still have to follow roads, and-”

“Okay, woman, just give me the directions.”

“Just let me pull them up-”

“You don’t know them?”

“No, Elizabeth, I haven’t memorized the direct route to your parents house-”

“Then how do you know I went the wrong way?”

The two and a half hour drive to Buffalo (including a brief stop to a McDonald’s drive-thru) went much the same way in Liz’ tiny little yellow wagon. We got quite a few strange glances from drivers in neighboring cars. I had a headache as we pulled up in front of Liz’s parents, um,  _ mansion _ , for lack of a better word. It was a pretty yellow Victorian with at least three floors and a stunning wrap around porch, on which sat a quaint porch swing. I pouted as Liz parked.

“Why do we live in a shitty apartment, again?”

“Because I am an independent woman and not a trust fund baby,” she said.

“Cool! I’ll remind you about that the next time you eat moldy bread.”

“I told you, the slices I ate weren’t moldy!”

“Still gross,” I said as I climbed out of the car.

“The mold was on the other side of the loaf. My sandwich tasted just fine.”

A girl dressed like a 1920s flapper curled her lip at Liz, closing the door to her shiny red sports car before sauntering off, hips and fringe swaying as she moved.

“See? I told you it’s weird.” I said, walking forward.

“Whatever, since when do you agree bougie rich kids?”

“When the question at hand is whether or not eating moldy bread is gross or not, apparently,” I said, turning to watch Liz struggle to get out of the car without dirtying her dress on the lawn.

“I told you- the bread I ate wasn’t moldy!” Liz finally stood, frowning at the flapper as she knocked on the front door. “Her dress isn’t even authentic. I think Party City could’ve done better,”

I looked over at the flapper again- Liz was exaggerating, of course, but now that I was looking I noticed a few historical inaccuracies in her pretty dress. “You’re uncharacteristically saucy today,”

Liz shrugged, flushing a little bit, and I knew she’d felt guilty the second she’d closed her mouth. I smiled at her and locked our elbows, leading her up to the door. Anxiety and terror flooded me as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in again, but I just focused on the familiar smell of Liz’ peachy perfume and stood as close to her as I could without it seeming weird. “We got this, girl,” Liz whispered under her breath, as if she could sense how I felt.

“Hell yeah, we do,” I said, briefly setting my head against her shoulder before knocking on the front door.

Ms. Van Dop, the Delaney’s housekeeper, opened the door and gave us a fake smile, inviting us inside. “Miss Elizabeth, a pleasure as always,” she offered in as authentic a voice as she could mention.

“The sentiment is mutual, ma’am,” said Liz. I barely suppressed a smirk, nodding to the woman in greeting as we passed.

Gentle jazz music was permeating throughout the house, and the usually contemporary-chic furniture had been exchanged for antiques and authentic nick-nacks that went seamlessly together, somehow, despite ranging from colonial era to the fifties and sixties. “Wow,” I said softly, grateful to see it still empty. “They really went all out for tonight, didn’t they?”

“Of course they did,” Liz muttered. “Their darling niece  _ Maya _ is coming to town for it, after all.”

“Liz,” I hissed, stopping dead as Liz frowned sadly at the carpet. “When were you going to mention that?”

Liz shrugged. “Right about now, I guess.”

We continued to walk forward, then. “I’m sorry,”

Liz shrugged. “I’ll live. Not like it’s her fault, anyway,”

“Nana will be here, too, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Liz said happily. “Cal, too,”

“Really? See, there’s that. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, Elizabeth!” said a familiar voice from behind us. We swivelled to see Mrs. Carson in her drawing room, standing with her husband and a few other people, including the flapper from outside. “And- Charlotte, is it?”

“It’s Chloe, Mother,” said Liz, feigning patience. “You have met her over a dozen times.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear,” said Mrs. Carson to me, smiling as she made her way towards her daughter. They hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks, then she shook my hand. “But you do look like a Charlotte, after all. Perhaps Lottie for short?”

“Lizzie,” said Mr. Carson, Liz’s stepdad.

“Daddy!” She cooed, flying graciously into his arms. I examined Mrs. Carson’s dress- she looked like Marie Antoinette, wig and all, and I’m sure that was exactly who she was channeling. Her dress was the epitome of authenticity- in fact, if it weren’t in such perfect condition, I might have guessed it was legitimately vintage.

“You look stunning, ma’am, as always,” I said sheepishly. Mrs. Carson smiled fondly at me.

“Why, thank you, dear- as do you. That is dress lovely, considering your budget,” she said. I flushed crimson.

“Thank you. Liz made it, actually- her own, too.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Carson turned towards her daughter. “You must have been so crunched for time. Kit- I assure you, her work is generally much better than this.”

Liz gave her father a look, and his eyes were apologetic as he looked back at her.

“I think the dresses look wonderful,” said a man from beside Mr. Carson- presumably Kit. “As well as the young ladies within them.

“Liz, Chloe,” Mr. Carson said, giving me a nod in greeting. “This is my good friend, Christopher Bae, his two sons Simon and Derek, and his daughter, Tori.”

Christopher Bae was a tall man, with greying black hair and a handsome, masculine face. He looked like a 30s archeologist. Simon looked much like his father, though his skin was darker and his hair blonde, his almond eyes several shades lighter. He was quite obviously mixed. As for his outfit, he looked- somewhere between magician and hobbit, in his corduroy vest and paisley shirt, a long jacket and a cloak, a top hat. Tori was next to him, and though the asian genes were more faint in her, it was obvious to see the familial connection between her, her father, and her brother. Her hair was black like her father’s, her skin pale, her eyes still almond shaped but much more subtly so.

And- Derek. He was impossibly tall, at least six and a half feet, with broad shoulders and a deep scowl on his face. He didn’t look asian, nor at all similar to either sibling. He had dark hair and pale skin, a wide button nose, glimmering green eyes. He wore a simple dark tweed suit, barely looking vintage at all.

“You’re related?” I asked before I knew what I was doing, and a typhoon of anxiety and dread crashed over me.

“Identical twins,” Derek muttered, not making eye contact.

“He’s adopted,” Kit said, giving his son a look that was halfway between amused and exasperated.

“We’re still teaching him manners, but he is quite difficult to housebreak,” said Simon, clapping a hand on his brother’s arm. Derek grumbled something I couldn’t quite make out, then turned towards the globe on the desk and turned it slowly with his fingers. I looked over at Liz as she looped her arm around mine again.

“You all look lovely,” said Liz.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I l-like your dress.”

“Thanks,” said Tori, giving me a slow once over. I wanted to crawl right out of my own skin. “You, too.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room for one long, agonizing moment, before Mr. Bae thankfully broke it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Liz,” he said. “Having heard so much about your from Andrew,”

“The pleasure is mine,” Liz said sheepishly. “Dad talks about you a lot, too.”

“All good, I hope,” Kit laughed out.

Liz got a coy smile. “Define ‘good’.” Laughter, merriment. I started feeling lightheaded as their words stopped sinking in. Eventually, the house was as full as it could comfortably be and Liz had walked me around the entire main floor at least twice. Finally, she led me back to the drawing room, sitting us both down on the loveseat.

“How are you feeling?” Liz whispered in my ear.

“I’m not feeling,” I said softly.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered, closing my eyes, leaning on her shoulder.

“Okay,” Liz said, wrapping her arm around me.

“I can grab you something,” said a voice, and I jumped. I opened my eyes to see- Simon? I was pretty sure that was his name. He gave me a crooked grin. “Sorry for scaring you,”

“I-I-I-I-”

“She’ll take any sweet wine, please- preferably white,” Liz said.

“Sure thing. And for you?”

“Nothing, unfortunately. I have to drive. Thank you, though.”

“No problem.”

Simon disappeared for the kitchen and I settled back onto Liz’ shoulder. He returned a little while later, two glasses of wine in hand and a familiar face beside him. Maya stood there, looking like a forties librarian in smart trousers and a loose blouse. She smiled brightly at Liz, who returned it. Simon handed me my glass and I thanked him quietly, downing it in one swallow.

“How are you, cuz?” Maya asked brightly as Liz stood to hug her.

“I’m alright! How about you?”

“I’m good,” she said, leaning back. “What’s new?”

Liz shrugged coyly. “Not much, honestly. College is kind of hard, but so fun. You?”

“That’s good,” Maya said. “Well, school is good for me, too, and, um,” Maya grinned down at her feet. “Daniel and I are moving in together, so that’s fun,”

“Wow! I’m so happy for you,” Liz said, hugging her cousin again.

“Yeah,” Maya looked so- unlike herself, grinning and blushing. “Serena’s gonna live with us, too. Um, we’re remodeling the garage for her. So, you know, a lot of fun stuff.”

“That’s so fun!” Liz beamed. “Trust me, living with your best friend is- a joy. A painful joy, of course, but,”

I nudged her softly, trying to act more like a human and less like a terrified alien. “Oh… Stop it.” The conversation went on, and I’m pretty sure Simon spoke, too- I did, as well, maybe?- for a while, until finally the party began to die down and people began to leave. I was almost feeling like I wasn’t having a heart attack by the time it was just Liz, her family, and the Baes.

Mrs. Carson was wine drunk, much more so than usual, her legs draped across her husband’s lap. She was studying Liz and I, too intoxicated to realize she had a deep frown of disapproval on her lips.

The night went on for a bit longer, quietly chatting in the pretty room. Maya was talking about her boyfriend, and veterinary school, and so forth, when Mrs. Carson interrupted.

“Why can’t you be more like Maya, Elizabeth?”

A look of shock crossed Liz’s face, followed by a deep sadness that was quickly covered up by indignance. “Excuse me?”

“You’re twenty-three, Liz. You just started college- and you’re majoring in history. What are you going to do with your life? When are you going to settle down, start a family? I just-” she finished her glass. “I just don’t understand you.”

The room was silent. I clutched Liz’s hand firmly in my own, my worry for my best friend the only thing strong enough to eclipse my anxiety. “Sorry, Mom,” said Liz quietly. “Not all of us can fuck a rich guy and run away from our problems.”

Mrs. Carson’s jaw slackened as her husband tensed, looking hurt. Maya was staring wide-eyed at the floor, and the Baes all looked like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Nana had closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worse, and Callum was nodding along silently, as if grateful to his sister for saying what he couldn’t. All I wanted to do was drag Liz out of there and let her cry on my shoulder in the car, but she was sitting there, taut as stone, staring at her mother. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’m sorry I can’t be the perfect daughter that fits so perfectly into your new, perfect life,” Liz said. “I’m sorry you pretend you were born some uppity trust fund baby perfectly bred for a life of luxury. I’m sorry you act like a fucking cunt, especially when you’re drunk, and I’m sorry you have to drink to forget- whatever my biological father did to you.”

Mrs. Carson tensed and started down at her lap, angry and sad and in pain.

Liz stood. “And I’m sorry we had to do this in front of your friends. And I’m sorry, Andrew- I can see that I hurt you. I love you, and I thank you for taking care of my mom. But I can’t- do this anymore,” Liz said, looking down at her mother again. “I can’t watch you flimsily pretend you don’t despise me. I can’t- I just. I can’t.”

I stood up, too, and took her hand. “I think we should go,” I whispered.

“You had better,” said Mrs. Carson in a low voice.

“Bye, Mom. For good.”

“Liz,” pleaded Mr. Carson.

“I’ll text you, or whatever,” Liz said, leading me out. I stared at her back the whole way to the car.

Then, we were sat in her Volvo. She was staring at the steering wheel and I was staring at her. “Liz,” I said softly.

“I need to get drunk.” She said suddenly. “We’re gonna get a hotel room.”

“We don’t have any money, Liz,” I argued.

“I don’t really give a shit right now.”


	2. Royal Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chloe and Liz find themselves in a strange nightclub, and are saved from an unknown fate by Simon and Derek.

We got a room at the cheapest motel we could find that was within walking distance to a bar. I clung to Liz’s arm as we walked, feeling panicked and unsure and nauseous, but I had no clue what trouble Liz would get into if I let her go alone. I knew we were so out of place. I knew there would be way too many people in any bar. I knew I should have brought my goddamn Xanax.

The bar wasn’t a bar, as suggested by Google, but a club- and a fucking huge one, entirely too crowded, but Liz marched us right up to the bouncer, the line be damned. He eyed us, deeply amused, before looking at Liz’s determined face. “Name?”

“Whatever you want it to be, honey, so long as we get ourselves a comfy spot at the bar.”

He laughed, eyeing her cleavage for a long moment. “Alright, then. Sit by the blonde man.” I stared in shock as he moved the rope to let us in, but Liz dragged me forward before I could gawk.

“How in the hell did that work?” I asked.

“I don’t care,” she replied, hopping up onto a barstool.

“What can I get you ladies to drink?” asked a man in a deep southern accent.

“Something strong,” Liz said.

“Something cheap,” I countered.

“Ain’t much cheap around here,” said the bartender, eyeing me. “‘Less you know the right people.”

I shuddered, looking down. “I’ll pass.”

“Well, hel-lo there,” said a familiar voice from behind us. Someone with a strikingly familiar face stumbled towards Liz. “What can I get for you?”

Liz smiled brightly. “Whatever you want,” she purred.

“Oh, yeah?”

Panic began to flood over me stronger than before- until it was that thing without a name, something beyond fear, beyond terror. “Liz,” I croaked weakly, but she must not have heard me over the noise.

The noise. Laughter, music, talking, glass. Liz chugged whatever was in the stranger’s glass, then whatever the bartender handed her.

“Liz, please,” I tried to say, but I wasn’t even sure if they came out. My head wasn’t processing what I saw anymore, and I was breathing heavy- had my heart stopped? Or was it beating so fast I couldn’t feel it anymore?

I must have fallen off of the stool, because suddenly I was stumbling backwards. I jumped and whimpered as something hit me before it registered as the wall. As I started to weep, I fell down onto my feet, tucked between the wall and the bar and the final stool.

I panicked there for a long time, trying to focus on the feel of the old wood stool and only the sound of my blood rushing, trying to pull myself back to reality, but the fear of  _ something is coming for me _ just wouldn’t go away. I needed my Xanax. I needed my bed. I needed Liz.

It was a long time before I was back to some semblance of normal. My knees ached from being crouched and I couldn’t feel my feet. No one had noticed me, apparently, and I didn’t see Liz anywhere- she must have slipped away with that guy. I gave a frightened shudder and hugged the stool, desperately searching for her through the crowd.

“Chloe?” a voice said, and I jumped and whimpered, banging my head against the bar. As I started to cry again, I heard hurried cursing. They kneeled in front of me-

Derek, from Mrs. Carson’s house. He was eyeing me wearily. I stared at him, sputtering, shivering.

“Jesus, how much more did you drink?”

“No-n-noth-nothi-nothing-thing,” I gasped. “Li-Liz- Need- f-find- Liz-”

“Simon’s got her,” Derek said, reaching out.

“No!” I screamed, kicking him, crying. I scurried further into the bar and squeezed myself.

“Fucking hell,” Derek snarled. “Come on, Chloe. You can’t sit there all night.”

I covered my face as if that would hide me from him, tucking my knees against my chest, focusing on the strange sensation of pins and needles. “Don’t touch me,” I managed to gasp.

“Do you want me to take you to Liz?”

“Y-yes,” I whimpered. “B-but d-d-don’t-”

“I won’t touch you, okay? Just- follow me.”

I conjured an image of Liz in my mind and slowly lowered my hands to look at him.  _ Get up, idiot _ , whispered that little voice in my head. Slowly, I got to my feet, and Derek looked relieved. He stood and I winced as he loomed over me, but he just turned and silently began to walk. I scurried after him, keeping as close as I could without freaking out.

Out in the parking lot, a very drunk, very giggly Liz was leaning on a grey sports car, Simon standing in front of her. Had he been the one who said hello? When she looked over at me, though, relief flooded over her face. She flew towards me and I shrunk back, almost falling. She froze two feet away from me.

“I was so worried,” Liz said so quickly it almost sounded like one word. “Thank God you’re okay- I mean, you were there one second, and the next, just- gone- I-” She stopped herself, pausing for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

I took a step forward, staring at the ground, then another- panic flooded me as I sensed her closeness. I looked up at her familiar face, though, feeling comforted by her pretty eyes. I managed to lean into her, wrapping my arms around her, and she held me back.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked Simon as he approached. With a gasp, I fell back again, looking down at the ground, hugging myself.

“No, she isn’t,” said Liz. “Let’s just- get her home. Or, to the hotel, I guess.”

“We got a new one for you guys,” muttered Derek. “The one you got was shit.”

“Oh. Um- thanks,” said Liz. “But my car-”

“We’ll grab it in the morning. Get in the car.” Liz looked at him, obviously annoyed.

“Sorry,” said Simon with an uncomfortable laugh, glaring at his brother. “Like I said, we… Are working on that…”

“It’s fine. C’mon, Chloe,” Liz looked over at me with kind eyes, and awkwardly, I scooted towards her. We sat in the back seat as Derek drove and Simon and Liz chatted. I zoned out staring at the ground and focusing very hard on not hyperventilating.

It was so surreal. None of it seemed like real life. Just- being let into a club like that, looking like we did? And how the hell had Simon and Derek come to get us? Maybe more importantly-  _ why _ the hell had Simon and Derek come to get us? And why had they gotten us a different hotel room? I couldn’t seem to verbalize any of my questions, though, so I just clung to Liz and shivered, hyper aware of the close proximity of the boys.

“So- how did you guys find us? And why were you looking?” Liz asked sometime later, though she sounded a lot less suspicious than I was. Simon glanced at her in the rearview, then at me, then at Liz, then at Derek.

Okay, well,  _ that’s _ a creepy fucking thing to do.

“Andrew was worried, so he sent us after you.”

“Okay, but like, you weren’t right behind us or anything. How’d you find us?” Another weird exchange of looks.

“Does she know about your-  _ family _ ?” asked Derek, trying and failing to be subtle about- something.

Liz raised both eyebrows, silent for a moment. “You mean, does she know I’m a Volo? Yeah. She’s a necro.”

Derek eyed me almost wearily and, offended, I stiffened. “I’m a werewolf,” he said.

“Oh. So you, like, smelled us?”

Derek scowled out the front window, not responding. Not much time went by before Derek parked the car in front of a significantly nicer hotel. “Why did you get us a new room?” I managed, finally.

“Well, you’re both drunk, and I’m not about to drive you all the way back to  _ Syracuse. _ ” He spat the city name like it was a curse.

“We already had a room,”

“Yeah, a shitty one,” said Simon. He opened my door for me and took a few steps back, and both me and Liz crawled through it.  _ Why the hell should you two care? _ “Besides, we already had a second room for Tori, but apparently she’s staying with a friend.”

“A second room?” Liz queried as we walked through the lobby to the elevator. “What, are you two sharing a room?”

Thankfully, the elevator was both roomy and empty. I squeezed myself into a corner and shuddered as it started going up, trying to focus on the conversation-  _ anything _ to keep me grounded. The shame of weeping alone beneath a stool (and in front of Derek) was enough; I didn’t need to lash out in the elevator.

“I mean, yeah. We did growing up.” Once we got to our floor, we walked towards the two hotel rooms. “I hope you don’t mind- there’s just one bed, and there’s a door to our room.”

I did mind, actually, at least about the adjoining part- but it wasn’t like I could very well say anything. Liz graciously dismissed that and thanked them for the room.

A little while later, we were both showered and sitting on the bed in our underthings, utterly pajama-less. Luckily, though, the Victorian/Edwardian chemises we wore worked well enough for that.

“I’m sorry,” Liz said again, quiet and solemn. Her pretty face was etched in guilt. “For all of this. God- I should have let you stay home, spared you all my bullshit.”

“No,” I said with a frown, taking her hands in mine. “I’m glad I’m here for you.”

She smiled, though she only looked more guilty. “You had an episode because I dragged you to a strange club and ditched you for the first hot girl I saw,” Liz muttered.

So, Simon definitely  _ wasn’t _ the stranger whose drink she’d chugged. “You’d just been through a lot. We both know your get- impulsive sometimes. But I’m fine, now, and so are you, and that’s all I care about.”

Liz smiled fondly at me for a moment. We both jumped when a gentle knock sounded at the door connecting us to the boys’ room, though of course, I also let out a terrified whine. “Come in,” she said. Simon opened the door, standing in pajama bottoms and a tight shirt, holding a bottle of bourbon.

“I get it if you guys wanna be alone-” he started.

“Nonsense,” said Liz, much to my dismay. “Besides, you come bearing gifts. Come join us.”

Simon came in and sat on the bed, though thankfully, about as far away from me as he could. He and Liz joked around, and I threw in the occasional comment as well. I eventually grew begrudgingly comfortable with his presence.

A little while later, Derek came in with an unamused scowl on his face. Simon looked patiently over at him. “Are you gonna join us?”

“Are you gonna stay here all night?” Derek grumbled. Or maybe that’s just how his voice sounded.

“Maybe,” said Simon. “But you don’t have to. You can just come in, have a drink or two, and go to bed. We don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Seems pretty rude to Chloe. Seems like she’d rather be alone.”

Simon looked over at me and my fight or flight kicked into hyper drive. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yes. “N-no.”

“Okay, cool. Just let me know if you do.”

Liz touched my hand, and I looked at her-  _ you can tell him to go, Chloe. _ Annoyed and very uncomfy, I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

I was decidedly  _ not _ fine, but then again, what’s new?

With an aggravated sigh and a barely stifled glare at me, as if it were  _ my _ fault, Derek hobbled in and sat on the bed, closer to me than Simon. He was so-  _ big _ . Just tall and broad and… Big. I was beyond intimidated.

“So,” Simon said after a long, awkward pause. “This is almost as awkward as spin the bottle in middle school,”

Liz laughed, but me and Derek did not emote. Then, the two of them shared a look, making me prickle silently. I wanted to bark at them to get the  _ hell _ out of my room, but even if I could ever muster the courage to do that, I never would. “Thanks again,” Liz said after a moment, looking between Derek and Simon. “For getting us. And giving us a room.”

“No problem,” said Simon. More small talk. “What about you?”

Liz nudged me, and I looked up with a small smile to see them all, including Derek, looking at me. “Huh?”

“Liz is a history major- what about you?”

“Film,” I said quietly. “Minor in lit.”

“Cool, cool. How far in are you?”

“I’m a senior,” I said.

“Oh, damn. Any plans for after graduation?”

“Nope,” I said. “What about you two? What do you do?”

“I’m an illustrator,” Simon said, listing off a very respectable set of credentials. “Derek’s a philosophy major.”

Interested, I looked over at him. “That’s super cool,” I said. He grunted in response, and I tried not to roll my eyes as I looked away again.  _ Dick _ .

More chatting. Simon had just bought a new zombie movie, one that Liz was hyped about because the main characters were lesbians. I was not in a horror movie mood, and this one was hyped to be ‘genuinely scary’- something I doubted but wasn’t really willing to risk. Simon walked off to find it, and a few moments later, Liz followed.

Derek was scowling at the royal blue bedding. I wondered what the hell his problem was- we hadn’t done anything to him. Just when I was about to ask about it, he looked over at me, a strange intensity in his shimmering green eyes. “You really need to be more careful,” he all but growled. His voice was so deep it was hard to tell if it was in anger or just coincidental.

“Wh-what?”

“The bouncer and the bartender. They were werewolves- and pretty fucking shitty guys. It’s a damn good thing Andrew sent us after you.”

My brow furrowed. “We didn’t do anything,” I said. I wanted to sound incredulous, but my voice was shaky and scared.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. Simon returned and collected him before I could respond.

What the hell were we meant to do to avoid that, then? Not go out, ever, in fear of some boogeymen that may or may not randomly target us? And how did he know they were bad?

I literally had no idea what was going on. Exhausted and more than a little anxious, I lay down on the comically large bed alone. The room was dark and silent and empty now, but something about Derek’s words unsettled me, keeping me so far on edge that sleep was certainly out of the question. The urges to crawl into a corner and hide, to run, to do  _ anything _ to get away were manageable, but beyond annoying.

I was still tossing and turning when Liz crept into the room and back into bed with me. Even though I knew it was her, I was still freaked out by the door opening and the presence so close to me in bed. I had to get up, to get out, to get away, or I was going to have another episode.

But- go where? I wasn’t about to leave the hotel room, and Liz was out like a light the second her head hit the mattress. For a while I paced in the dark, paranoia forcing my eyes to dart frantically around the room. It felt like something was going to pop out at me at any moment.

It was hard to keep it at bay, especially all night long, especially without my medicine. But as the sun slowly began to rise, I found myself finally able to lower myself into bed again. My tired, burning eyes scanned the sleek modern room.

Fucking Derek. Why did he have to say that?


	3. Feeling Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chloe, Liz, Simon, and Derek spend the evening together with varying levels of reluctance.

The sound of Liz’s ever familiar laughter tugged me away from my blissful sleep and back through the fog, towards consciousness. A low grumble of a voice startled me shortly thereafter, though, and I jumped, immersed in existence all too quickly. Groggily, my eyes found the source of the noise- Simon, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, his face strange, his voice unusually low and gentle. I shuddered into the air, gathering the plush duvet around me. He met my eye and gave a crooked smile. “Good morning.”

However, groggy and grumpy and unsettled and sleep deprived, my manners were still lost to the abyss. I said nothing, tucking the lower half of my face into the duvet, staring at Liz’s feet. “She’s not a morning person,” Liz offered. “Excuse me,”

“Of course,” Simon said, disappearing into his room and leaving the door open, sitting across from his brother. Liz sat next to me, reaching her hand out, and I glumly shook my head. Concern etched itself onto her pretty face.

“Did something else happen?” She asked, as if she were psychic. Sometimes I was convinced that she was. But my words didn’t come; I barely managed to shake my head no. “Are you hungry?”

The thought of eating made me feel physically sick; my face must have shown this, because she leaned over the bed to dig her chewy Tums out of her bag, but I made what sounded like a squawking noise. She looked at me.  _ I can’t even eat  _ that, I wanted to convey to her. With another shiver, I lay down as the despair settled over me.

I really was a basket case, wasn’t I?

“It’s okay,” she cooed like a mother to a wounded child, but babying wasn’t gonna make me feel better. I needed my meds, but of course, I couldn’t take them without food; my shitty, frail body couldn’t even handle that.

And poor Liz was going to feel the brunt of the guilt for asking me to go to the party with her, as if it were her fault I was incapable of functioning like a real, human adult.

Liz disappeared for a moment, walking into the boys’ room. It wasn’t too long after that she came back. “Okay, we’re gonna head home now,” she said. “Time to get dressed.”

But I didn’t want to clamber back into that dress. I pushed the duvet aside and looked down at my appropriate enough chemise, then slipped my feet into the flats I’d worn last night. Liz giggled, then stepped into her own shoes.

“You’re right, of course. The wonders of vintage fashion!” She folded and readied our disposed of garments as the boys, fully dressed, came into our room. I stared numbly at the floor.

“You alright?” Simon asked me, and I ignored him, hoping he’d think I didn’t notice him speak. He glanced with uncertainty at Liz.

“She’ll be okay. We forgot her medicine… We were supposed to go home last night.”

I knew what they were thinking.  _ She needs medicine just to  _ function _? Really? _ And yeah. I did. They were right to judge me, if they were, as they should.

There was a tiny little voice in the back of my head that argued against that, but the rest of my dysfunctional brain overpowered and silenced it after it had managed just a small, pitiful squeak. Simon took our things from Liz and the boys led us out to their car, then drove us to the motel for Liz’s car.

“It’s not there,” she said in a panic as we pulled into it. “My car, it- it’s just  _ gone _ ,” she said, nearly vibrating from panic.

“Well, wait a second-”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do without a  _ car _ ?!” she whimpered. Through my dazed fog of grim existence, I managed to force myself to lay my head on her, and as if I were a lap dog, she clung to me for comfort.

If I were a lap dog, at least I wouldn’t feel like this.

“Calm down, Liz,” Simon said. “If they had it towed, we can get it back easily. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Really? You would?”

“Of course,” he said. They left me in the car with Derek to go in and ask about it. I felt him staring at me from the front seat but couldn’t even muster up the energy to care, much less tell him to stop. He looked almost frustrated, which would have flustered me on any other occasion.

Maybe a half hour later, Liz and Simon came back to the car. Liz had been crying and Simon had his arm on her shoulder; I scowled at him through the open window without thought, and he blinked suddenly before taking his arm off of her. Liz looked miserable as she crawled into the backseat with me, and I nearly fell into her arms as soon as the door closed, thanks to Simon. She whimpered loudly into the air. “It was stolen,” she wept. “Two guys in fucking  _ ski masks _ stole it! What the hell am I supposed to do?”

I said nothing, and neither did Derek; after a moment, Simon looked at her through the rearview. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “Hell- I can rent you a car, okay?”

“Dude,  _ what _ ?” Derek hissed.

“It’s kind of our fault it was stolen, anyway. Chloe wanted to go back for it and we pushed it until the morning.”

“If you’re sure that’s okay,” Liz whimpered. “Thank you.”

We drove to the Buffalo Police Department, and again, Derek and I sat in the car while Liz and Simon went inside. As this took much longer, Derek seemed to be getting restless; he got out to pace around the building before climbing back in. He turned to look at me, almost bending over the seat and looming over me. A couple strands of fear broke through the fog, but I stared up at him blankly. “Do you care if I put on music?”

“No,” I said, almost proud of myself for speaking. He sat down, muttering  _ good _ , and played music through his phone; a rock station that seemed to play anything from southern rock to soft alt to heavy metal. I tapped along to the many unfamiliar songs, actually finding myself soothed by it, calmed. I even managed to hum along to Free Bird.

Eventually, Liz and Simon returned. Liz smiled almost brilliantly when she saw I was back to some semblance of normal.

“Hey! We gotta play you more Lynyrd Skynyrd!” Liz cooed.

“I guess,” I said gently, a little embarrassed. I was starving, but I wasn’t sure that I could eat. “Now what?”

“They’re gonna drive us back to Syracuse,” Liz said. “Simon’s gonna get us a rental. Maybe we can stop for lunch- or, dinner, I guess. It’s already kind of late.”

“We’ll have to eat before we get to Syracuse,” Simon said.

“That’s fine.”

“Liz, we’re wearing glorified pajamas,” I muttered.

“We’ll stop at the store,” she whispered.

“We are flat broke,” I reminded her, and she sighed.

“Rain-check on dinner?” Liz asked, louder once more. It was useless; Derek had no doubt heard it all, even over the music. “You guys have been so nice, but we should really get Chloe home for her meds, and, y’know, a change of clothes.”

_ Blame it on me _ , I thought, slightly offended. Nevertheless, I leaned into her while Simon assured us that was fine, he was looking forward to it, yada yada.

“Are you guys free tomorrow for brunch? I’ve got work in the afternoon, but morning’s fine.”

“That’s great!”

“Wonderful.”

It was a long and rock-filled drive back to our apartment.


	4. Pale Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chloe is reluctant to accept help from Simon and Derek, while Liz is all too eager for it.

Simon rented Liz a Jeep Wrangler and sent us on our way. Both he and his brother were weirdly reluctant to get very close to Syracuse at all, something I noted silently.

After begrudgingly eating half a peanut butter sandwich and a single serving of chips each (out of availability rather than choice), Liz and I curled up together on the couch and rewatched the prequel series until we fell asleep, heartily quoting all the cringiest lines together all the way. After we awoke, Liz dropped me off for my morning classes and then picked me up again to drive to wherever she and Simon had arranged to meet for brunch. I groaned aloud when we stopped outside of a fancy-looking restaurant, modern and sleek.

“What part of flat broke do you not understand?”

“Simon kindly offered to pay for us,” Liz said, chipper.

“Because Derek heard me tell you that we’re flat broke.”

“You don’t know that,” she argued. I rolled my eyes, feeling that gross, too-familiar feeling that overcame me whenever anyone (with the sole exception of Liz) ever paid for anything for me, ever.

“They’re stinking rich. It’s no different from us tossing a dime to a homeless person.”

I turned a silent glare towards her for a moment before dragging myself out of the car, awkwardly adjusting my pale blue polo I had bought when I was fourteen- that still fit me, for some reason- and rubbing my hands against my worn down leggings.

Needless to say, I was underdressed.

A few moments later Simon and Derek climbed out of their sports car and looked at us. Simon was wearing a dark blue blazer and a striped shirt over pale jeans; Derek was wearing just a black sweater and dark jeans. So, maybe not  _ too _ underdressed, even if I did look straight out of 2007.

“Hey!” Liz said brightly. “How are you boys this morning?”

Derek and I ignored Liz and Simon as they made conversation. It was a comfortable routine, I supposed. We walked into the restaurant, and the hostess smiled at us.

“Hello! Booth or table?”

“Booth, please,” Simon said. I winced, but was too nervous to argue, and no one noticed, so I shuffled my feet as she led us to a booth beside a window. I let Liz crawl into the corner across from Simon before sliding in next to her.

“So,” Simon said as we all opened our menus. “Who was that girl you were talking to last night?”

“Oh- Rae?” Liz asked, flushing. I looked over at her, shocked, blinking. “Just… And old friend.”

“Of  _ mine _ ,” I said, narrowing my eyes a little in suspicion. She was too sheepish, too coy.

“And mine.”

“Uh-huh.”

I looked over just in time to see a knowing look pass through Simon’s eyes, and frowned deeply. I was growing more upset by the moment. “She’s trouble, Liz. You should stay away from her.”

Liz’s face immediately sizzled into careful, impassive neutrality, one that was almost as telling as if she hadn’t bothered hiding her emotions at all. She didn’t meet my eyes as I stared at her, almost scoffing. Setting my own face, I turned glumly back to my menu. “We’ll talk later,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said charismatically. “Didn’t mean to stir up trouble in paradise.”

I frowned at him again, only to see him watch as Liz almost angrily pulled her hand away from mine, and suddenly it struck me what he meant- what he thought he knew. “We’re not- there’s no- we aren’t-”

“Chloe’s straight,” Liz said emotionlessly. “And she’s not Rae’s type, anyway.”

My brow furrowed, I scoured my menu, but my brain didn’t process the words written on the menu.

“Oh- I- I’m sorry, it just… She’s… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Simon said, flustered at first before falling back into his charismatic mannerisms. “I should know better than that by now. People think Derek and I are together a lot because he’s overprotective and it’s not exactly easy to guess that we’re brothers.”

“Thank you both for paying,” Liz said after a silent pause.

“Yeah- thanks,” I added.

“Don’t mention it.” Simon glanced over at his brother, who looked back at him with a scowl. Silently, they seemed to argue. Eventually, Simon sighed and spoke again. “After we left you guys last night, we went back to the hotel to see if we could figure anything out. We think it’s the werewolves from the club. Did they act weird around you guys at all?”

“Sort of,” Liz said, calming down. “The bouncer let us in and told us to sit next to the southern guy, so we did. They were a little creepy, I guess, but not in an outright villainous way. Why would they do that, though?”

“They’ve, uh, got a pretty bad history,” Simon said. “Derek would know better than I would.”

Derek scowled at his brother, then rolled his eyes. “Kidnapping. Human trafficking. Theft. Pretty much anything.”

I tensed as I looked over at Liz, feeling a flighty, panicky buzz in my head. She looked at me gently, reassuringly, and put her hand gently on mine again.

“We don’t mean to freak you guys out, or anything, but we… I mean, because of all that, we were worried enough to make sure they didn’t nab you at your apartment.”

I looked over at them suddenly. “You- followed us? And camped outside our apartment?” Derek rolled his eyes as if that was not something to be concerned about. Liz squeezed my hand, as if to tell me that it was okay.

“Thank you. We appreciate it.”

I frowned at Liz, but she didn’t look at me. I looked wearily over at Simon, then Derek. “And did they show up?”

“Well, no, thankfully,” Simon said. I made a face, looking down at my menu.  _ So you stalked us for no reason, then? _

“Look,” Derek snarled, and I looked up at him. He looked agitated. “We were worried enough about you to come to  _ this fucking city _ to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped by some evil motherfuckers and sold off to even more evil motherfuckers.”

“What’s so bad about Syracuse?” I demanded.

“The pack lives here. They’re entire territory is the state, of course, and I’m already hard pressed trying to fly under their radar. Being here does not help me at all.”

I frowned at my menu, not saying anything. “You want a medal?”

Derek sputtered in anger as Simon sighed and Liz shifted in her seat. “Did you-”

“Well, Liz is gay and I’m- well, you’ve been around me long enough- you’re not gonna get any favors from us. Why the hell do this, then? Why the hell do you care?”

Derek laughed a mirthless laugh and glared at the ceiling behind me, almost enraged.

“We don’t want any favors,” Simon said. “We just wanted to help.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

“Chloe-” Liz whispered.

“I have been alive long enough- and around enough Supernaturals- to know that people don’t just help people for no goddamn reason.”

Simon looked at me, almost sad, for a long moment. “Sounds like you’ve been around all the wrong people.”

I rolled my eyes, sliding deeper into my seat. A waitress walked up, apologized for the wait, and we all ordered awkwardly.

“Do you really think,” Simon started once she had left. “That people- real, common, decent people- need a reason to not want two innocent girls to get kidnapped and- God knows what?”

I laughed humorlessly. “No, but I know real, ‘decent’ people are gonna need a helluva reason to do something about it other than quietly believing that bad things are bad.”

“Let’s drop this for right now,” Liz said quietly. I shrugged, looking away, feeling drained. She turned back to Simon. “I’m sure you’ve gathered she’s been- through some shit, to say the least. She has PTSD, and- so many other things that it’s really not my business to mention and I shouldn’t have even told you that one. She’s not very trusting.”

I clenched my jaw and shook my head, leg bouncing. I wanted to get the hell out of here.

“We get it,” Simon said gently. “It’s okay. I get it.”

There was a long pause. Awkwardly, Liz and Simon found something else to chat about as Derek and I- believe it or not- ignored them and each other. Eventually, the waitress brought out our food. Derek all but inhaled his while Simon and Liz ate theirs like normal, healthy people. I picked slowly at mine, but ate more than I’d thought I would.

“I have to go to the restroom,” Liz said.

“Me, too,” Simon said. “I’ll walk you there.”

Derek and I both had to stand up to let them out, then sat back down. We were silent for a long time, contentedly ignoring the existence of one another- until he ruined it by speaking.

“Look,” Derek said quietly, calmly. I looked tiredly up at him. He was staring at my plate as if he couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eye. “I don’t know what happened to you and I’m not asking. I’m- I’m sorry, or whatever, if it makes you uncomfortable that we checked up on you. But, believe me, if these guys are targeting you and you don’t find someone to help you… It’s gonna suck for you especially.”

I looked at him quietly, studying him. He was tense and uncomfortable, out of his element, and I softened a little. I shrugged. “Okay. Apology accepted, even though it was shitty. What-  _ help _ \- do you think you’re gonna give us, then?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “Simon thinks you should come stay at Dad’s complex. Liam and Ramon are pretty tough, but they’re nothing out security can’t handle.”

“Your dad’s what? Why do you have security?”

Derek took a quick drink of his milk. “Dad works for a cabal, he’s… Pretty important, I guess.”

“Well, Liz and I work, and we have school.”

Derek made a face, and tried and failed to suppress it. “Neither of which will do you a lot of good if they get a hold of you.”

Simon and Liz returned, prompting Derek and I to let them in once more. Derek caught them up on his offer so far.

“Yeah, totally.” Liz said.

“What about work and school?”

“We’ve got, like, five classes left between the two of us and then finals. Commuting won’t be too bad.”

“And  _ work _ ?”

“We’ve got money,” Simon said. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

I raised my brows and looked over at him, opening my mouth to speak, but Liz interrupted. “Thank you very much. You’re both very kind.”

I couldn’t help but scoff a little, poking at my half-eaten food. Liz elbowed me gently under the table.

“Cool. We’ll hire someone to pack up your stuff, then have it moved.” Simon said.

“I’d rather-” I started, flushing, thinking of the box of vibrators sitting on my nightstand.

“Thank you again. My dad- Andrew will be more than happy to return the favor, I’m sure-”

Simon shook his head. “Please. Andrew’s my godfather, we don’t really keep score- and if we did, I’m sure we’d owe him.”

“Well, thank you.” Liz said, and then elbowed me.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”


	5. Blue Handkerchief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Chloe enjoys a brief moment to herself before a muted but emotional argument with Liz, followed by a memory of their meeting and a ruined intimate moment.

I spent the rest of breakfast sulking and silently stabbing my remaining food. After Simon had paid, the boys walked us to the parking lot and we all climbed into our respective car.

“Will you be the map?” Liz asked. Silently, I unlocked her phone and opened the address Simon had sent her on Google Maps. She glanced at me, frowning, then looked into the rearview mirror as she started the car. “Where am I going?”

“West on i90, then south on i87,” I said.

“Helpful.”

We drove all the way to Manhattan from Syracuse, a good four hours. I sulked the whole way, even as Liz cheerily prompted me to put on music.

At least Manhattan was far, far away from Rae and those shitbags she’d gotten herself involved with. I couldn’t see Rae driving six hours just to ruin Liz’s life.

Our apartment, apparently, had a ‘semi-private sky garage’ that could fit two dozen cars. We rode the fancy car elevator up to it, marvelling at the beautiful view.

A view that only angered me further, even as Liz swooned and gushed about it.

There were a handful of cars already parked- including the boys’ grey sports car, a cherry red ferrari, and a yellow lamborghini.

The boys were standing around their car. Simon looked over at us and cracked a crooked smile. Derek’s intense eyes scoured over me, then glanced at Liz. “Make the drive okay?”

“Yep!”

They led us to our new apartment- a penthouse, apparently. The kitchen was twice the size as ours had been before, and despite the open concept, there was room for a dining room in between the kitchen and living room. The views were breathtaking, the furniture sleek and modern and beautiful.

“There’s a master and a second bedroom. The master’s big, obviously, but so is the second room- it’s got an ensuite, but the second bathroom is right outside the door to the second bedroom. Only real difference is closet size; the master's closet is five by six feet, and the spare bedroom’s is two by four.” Simon informed us.

“I’ll take the master, then,” Liz said. “I’ve got, like, triple the clothes.”

We took a tour of Liz’ master suite- very yellow and grey and white and black, then my wing- very grey and white and pink and black. The only difference other than closet size was that the hallway from the bedroom to bathroom was outside of my room and inside hers- and, removing my ability to have a massive walk-in closet (that I was entirely indifferent to) was the coat closet and linen closet also off my hallway.

“And that’s all she wrote,” Simon said. “I hope everything’s to your liking.”

“Are you kidding?” Liz asked, plopping on my bed. “It’s amazing!”

I grumbled in unenthusiastic agreement, slinking onto the bed next to Liz. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Simon said. “We’re the next apartment over if you need anything. On the other side of the garage is Dad’s apartment, and the rest of the floor, across from the view, is Tori’s apartment. Don’t ask me how she got the biggest apartment.”

“She’s always been Dad’s favorite,” Derek grumbled, and then scowled, as if speaking had made him uncomfortable.

_ Mood _ .

“It’s ‘cause she’s a girl, probably,” Liz said. Derek grunted in response.

Silence settled over the four of us for a moment very awkwardly. I gazed at the pale pink duvet beneath me for a long moment.

“You can- ah- redecorate, if you want,” Derek burst out. I blinked at him.

“Yeah- totally!” Simon said, taking over. Derek leaned backwards, sliding his hands into his pockets and scowling at the floor.

There was a prickle of something in my chest. I told myself it was empathy; I’d felt like that before. I studied him gently with a new interest.

“We’ll send Tori over later. Maybe you three can go shopping or whatever.”

“We’re poor,” I said, glancing out at the stunning view once more.

“We’ve got you covered, of course,” Simon said.

I wondered silently what their Dad must do, and wondered what the boys’ must have thought of the bumper stickers I’d put on Liz’s Volvo- including, but not limited to,  _ Bernie 2020 _ and  _ EAT THE RICH _ .

“Oh, and also- Andrew’s coming over tonight for dinner, without your mom. I thought you might like to come? Tori and Dad will be there, too.”

“I’d love to!” Liz said, then looked over at me.

“Not me,” I said quickly, knowing I could successfully get out of this one. I looked directly at Liz’ pretty, familiar face in order to keep my composure. “I’d love to, too, I mean, but- I’m a bit… Over-peopled. I need a bit to recuperate.”

“No problem,” she said sincerely. “I’m gonna go get dressed. What time is dinner…?” Liz and Simon walked off, but much to my surprise, Derek lingered for a moment, not looking at me. For a few moments, his face twisted into a deep scowl. He opened his mouth, paused, and then let out a disgruntled scoff before promptly swivelling and stalking right out the front door.

I looked at the closed door for a long moment, that weird little prickle returning for a moment before fading away. I walked to my bathroom and closed the door, thankful to find it fully stocked with everything needed to take a long and steamy bubble bath in the oversized bathtub.

“Be back in a few hours!” Liz called about an hour later, prompting me to finally drag myself out of the tub. I spent the next hour finishing homework, and begrudgingly changing the times on my alarm clock in order to be up early enough to drive back to Syracuse for my remaining two classes and all of my finals, before realizing again how preposterous all of this was.

I would have to talk to Liz, and maybe Derek, who had seemed less on board with making us financially dependent on them for little to no reason, about that. There was no way that this was going to work.

After that, the movers arrived, and I awkwardly instructed them where to put everything. Apparently, Simon had had them leave our furniture and only grab our belongings, so disregarding that particular invasion of privacy- that had meant that they’d gone through  _ everything we owned _ \- I was grateful for how briefly the movers were there. I had just sheepishly tucked my bedside box beneath my pillow when I heard Liz arriving home, Andrew’s voice echoing down the hall. I waited another hour yet for Andrew to leave before wandering out to see Liz looking tired, perched on a barstool at the peninsula. She gave me a sleepy smile in greeting.

I leaned on the counter in front of her. “Hi,”

“Hey. Our stuff from the apartment?” She gestured at the boxes in the corner.

“Yep. How was dinner?”

“Good, actually. Andrew and I had a bit of a heart-to-heart. Tori’s actually really fun, and Kit is funny. Simon was great, as usual- really starting to like him- and even Derek relaxed a bit. I’m pretty sure he even cracked a joke or two. How was your alone time?”

I shrugged. “I had a bubble bath, that was nice. Finished homework… Which got me thinking.”

“Oh, no.”

“We have classes and finals to get to, Liz. Do you know how early we’d have to wake up to drive, or even  _ fly _ , back to Syracuse in the morning?”

“We talked about that at dinner, actually,” Liz said. “Kit knows a lot of people at SU. It’s last minute, but he’ll make sure we can finish the school year online. Tori’s going to pick out computers for us- apparently, she’s big into them.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Are we really just going to- let them… Do this? Control us? Dictate our lives and gift us a  _ penthouse _ and- and-  _ why _ ? For what? Why would they do any of this? I’m sick of pretending that this isn’t really, really weird. What the hell do they want? I don’t trust any of them.”

Liz pursed her lips, staring impassively at the counter. “Kit is my dad’s best friend. They’ve known each other since college. They work together. I trust them all.”

I sighed and rolled my shoulders, unable to think of a response. “I trust Andrew. I don’t know his friends.”

“You don’t trust his  _ judgement _ \- his history?” Liz seemed defensive, hurt.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Liz.”

“Then what are you saying, Chloe?”

“I’m saying that I don’t feel comfortable with a bunch of strangers deciding to adopt us! We’re grown women, Liz. We are independent. If you wanted your dad to buy us a penthouse, you could’ve asked him to and he would have. I don’t know what’s going on in your head that you’re so happy about this.”

Liz looked downright angry now, glaring at the wall, and I wasn’t sure why. “This is  _ so _ different from that! Simon and Derek are helping us out because they want to, not because they’re- obligated to, or we fucked them to get here. This is so, so different!”

I looked at Liz quietly, gently. She looked back at me with angry, desperate exasperation. “Andrew doesn’t feel obligated to help you because- he fucks your mom, or whatever. He likes helping you because you’re his daughter and he loves you.”

Liz winced as if I’d said something cruel, and turned her head, shaking it gently. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. If you don’t trust them, then leave. I don’t care.”

I sucked in a breath as she stood and wandered off, hugging herself. I watched her feet as she went.

I knew logically that she didn’t mean that. I knew we had been through so much together, ever since we were kids. I knew she loved me and she would be sad if I left her.

But that didn’t stop tears from forming, didn’t stop my throat tightening and growing wet. I walked back to my bedroom and lay down before letting the tears out, hot and thick, as I whimpered gently into the air.

I had learned long ago that stifling sadness never led to anything good, but that didn’t stop me from feeling pathetic because of it.

Liz and I had met when we were six. Her grandfather’s funeral happened in the room beside my mother’s, and she had seen me weeping in the lobby, clutching my mother’s blue handkerchief and wiping my nose with it. She’d wandered up to me, looking as if she wasn’t sure she was supposed to talk to me, and she had sheepishly said, “Are you alright?”

I’d jumped and looked up at her, then looked around to see if anyone was around, reacting to her presence, but no one was paying any attention to either of us. I hadn’t been sure whether or not she was a ghost. I’d looked over at her, deciding I didn’t care. “No.”

“What’s wrong?”

I’d frowned at her. We were in a funeral home. “I’m sad.”

“I’m sad, too,” she had said, sitting on the coffee table behind her, leaving an indent beneath her. She was alive. “My papa died.”

“My- my mom’s… My mom.” I had stuttered out, face twisting as another sob threatened to wrack over me.

“Oh, no!” She’d said gently. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what I would do if my mommy died…”

That had not helped. I’d wept out again, hugging myself. Liz had gotten up and rubbed my arm- too quickly, not gently, like a little girl mimicking comfort without truly understanding it. I’d winced and whined and cried harder at her touch, stuttering out how I didn’t like to be touched. “I’m sorry,” she’d whispered, looking hurt.

“N-n-not y-your f-f-fault,” I’d said. “S-someone h-h-hurt me, o-once.” When I was younger, I’d always felt obligated to explain too much, to justify my boundaries.

Liz’s eyes had gone wide. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“N-not yo-your f-fault.”

“I’m Elizabeth,” she’d said after a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Chl-Chloe,”

“Nice to meet you, Chloe!”

“Y-you, t-t-too.”

She had walked around with me for the next few hours, accompanying me to my mother’s service and bringing me to her grandfather’s. She wrote down her phone number sloppily on the side of my shoe when it had been time for me to go, something that had stressed my aunt out quite a bit. Dad had told her off in a rare show of anger, saying I could do what I wanted and she should be happy I’d made a friend, had someone my age to talk to. Aunt Lauren had gone white with anger but had not argued.

Until college, we’d never gone to the same school. We lived barely within walking distance from one another. To this day, I wasn’t quite sure how we remained in touch, how we always went out of our ways to keep close, to stay in each other’s lives. Her mom got married and they grew apart. She loved Andrew but always felt like a  _ step _ rather than a daughter. Her brother had never been overly friendly. Her grandmother had gone to live in a nursing home, to rarely be seen. Her friends were often callous and cruel and lived a drama-filled life. My father had pushed Aunt Lauren away for her overbearing tendencies, and he worked too much, and even when he was home he was never overly-emotional, never very sentimental, and therefore, neither was I. I didn’t really have  _ friends _ , just a group of people that let me eat lunch with them and go shopping with them and see movies with them. Ghosts came and went from my life, from my world, never staying long enough for me to grow too attached to any of them.

Liz and I had each other, and that was it- but it was constant, reliable. We didn’t fight or argue so much as bicker. We weren’t best friends, we were  _ soulmates _ , she had said- platonic soulmates.

I grabbed my phone, intent on falling asleep to music, to see her having texted me,  _ love u, gn <3 _

_ ly2, sleep well _

_ :) u2 _

Calmed by that, I listened to music for a while, relaxing. After a while, though, I grew restless, tossing and turning before deciding to dig out my favorite bullet vibrator for a quick, sleep-inducing orgasm.

Quick, however, turned to slow, as there was not anything in particular to think about and I wasn’t in the mood to watch anything, so I lay there, content to just feel pleasant as the toy worked its magic. I’d just grown restless enough to play with the toy and truly work myself up to an orgasm when a loud  _ crash _ sounded somewhere outside of the apartment, making me jump and whimper and toss the toy across my room to growl angrily against the hardwood floor, jumping around from the vibrations. Flushing and flustered and slightly panicked, I hurried over to the too-loud vibrator and turned it off, tucking it back in its place and wandering out into the hallway, hugging myself, looking around. “Liz? Was that you?”

No response. She must have been sleeping already. I stared agitatedly at the walls before retreating once more to my room and curling up under the unfamiliar covers, drifting into a discontent sleep.


End file.
